Falling Slowly
by Caitlyn Rose
Summary: “We Were Here,” they’d boldly proclaimed, as if it would matter. As if they would be remembered, as if they could just waltz back home and it would all be the same.


The night air was chilly on her bare arms and legs as she looked down at the concrete, stripped as it now was of any sign of their presence 4 years ago. "_We Were Here_," they'd boldly proclaimed, as if it would matter. As if they would be remembered, as if they could just waltz back home and it would all be the same.

It felt so strange to be back here, in this town, on this basketball court, without him.

And just like that, no sooner had the thought occurred to her but there he was.

Walking towards her, manipulating a basketball easily, with the first few buttons of his shirt undone and his sleeves rolled up to the elbows. His hair was darker now, and he'd allowed a bit of stubble to grow. He still gave the impression of one who took little more than a cursory glance in the mirror each morning, and had maintained a little of that boyish, scruffy quality. But in some other, indefinable way, it was very, very clear to Peyton that Lucas Scott was a man now.

"Hi," she said eventually, realising that as surprised as she was to see him, he was nothing short of stunned by seeing her.

"How long's it been?" she asked perfunctorily, although in truth, she knew exactly how long it had been.

He shrugged. "Two years," he suggested casually, although in truth, he knew exactly how long it had been.

"It's been longer than that," she replied knowingly, and she could have sworn she saw him nod. It wasn't much, but she would take what she could get. It made her braver, somehow.

"God, Luke," she breathed out, "I _missed_ you."

She was moving towards him now, and suddenly Lucas felt as though it would be despicable of him to let her touch him without telling her the truth. He stepped back a little, putting some physical distance between them, and tried to anticipate how the words would feel coming out of his mouth. There was only one way to find out.

"I have someone," he said hastily. "I'm with someone."

Quick and painless.

Except, not really painless when he looked into her eyes.

"_Oh_," she said, blinking rapidly as the realisation settled. "Oh. Well." She smiled at him, evidently prepared to play her part in this charade as best she could. "Does that mean you can't give an old friend a hug?" she asked lightly, hoping desperately that he wouldn't reject her twice.

He didn't. He didn't have it in him. He opened his arms and wrapped them around her, and she sank into his embrace. She still fit perfectly against him. Foreign, yet so, so familiar. Lucas couldn't resist creeping a hand up to her hair, burying his fingers knuckle-deep in her curls.

His mouth was dry as, seemingly unconsciously, he croaked out, "I missed you too."

Peyton let out a breath she hadn't known she'd been holding, clutching him tighter and allowing herself to sink into him completely. In doing so, she acknowledged - perhaps for the first time - that _this_ was exactly what she had come home for. This man, and this feeling.

--

Lucas wasn't sure how long they'd been sitting together on the bleachers. He'd guess it had been a while. For the majority of that time, most of his energy had been expended trying to keep his gaze on the river, the lights of downtown, anything. Anything except her legs, which were as long and lean and tanned as they ever were, and currently stretched out in front of them both.

"You look good, Peyton," he said suddenly, breaking the silence and turning to look at her, the words rushing out of his mouth unbidden. Why was it that he seemed to have such trouble censoring himself around her? Lord knew he had become quite the expert with everyone else in his life.

"Thank you," she answered quietly. "So do you."

"So… you're home permanently, then?"

She nodded. "Yeah."

She honestly wasn't sure what was going on here – was he happy to see her? Sad? Angry? It could have been any or all of the above, and until she could pin him down to one particular, she felt it was best to tread carefully.

"But I thought…" he paused a second, trying to think of the best way to phrase it so as not to sound too bitter about the city she chose over him. "I thought you needed to be in L.A – you know, for work."

Peyton laughed humorlessly. "Yeah. I thought that too."

He wasn't quite sure what to say to that. "So…" he ventured. "What do you plan on doing here, then?"

She shrugged. "Don't know. Something to do with music, maybe, or art."

Hearing her own words, she laughed wryly. "Isn't that funny? She asked, her smile bittersweet. "If you had asked me that question four years ago, I would have given you the exact same answer. Shows you how much further forward I am, huh? Although," she amended, cocking an eyebrow, "I'd probably say more art than music these days, which is a bit of a change from senior year, I guess."

She bit back the sigh that rose to her lips. She didn't know why she'd had to spend four years in Los Angeles to realise that.

"Why?"

"Huh?" she replied absentmindedly, having been lost in her own thoughts.

"Why more art than music?" he clarified.

"I don't know. I still love music, I just don't know if I love the music _business._ I mean, the label wanted to sign ex-models and reality stars and I…"

"Didn't," he finished for her, with a small smile.

"Right," she smiled back, and for a brief second, it felt exactly like it used to between them. So easy and comfortable.

But it really didn't take much - just a flicker of his eyelids breaking their gaze – to remember that the awkwardness was there, like a third party whom they had no business even trying to ignore.

"So…" she began, feeling like she should at least acknowledge the bombshell he'd dropped on her. "You have a girlfriend, huh?"

"Yeah," he nodded heavily. He wondered if perhaps this was the moment he should have felt victorious: she rejected him three years ago, and now he had a beautiful girlfriend and he was happy. He'd moved on. He was better off, if anything. Ha. Take that, Peyton Sawyer.

Truthfully, though, Lucas couldn't muster the slightest bit of enthusiasm for any of that. He just felt hollow.

"Oh, God!" Peyton cried suddenly from her spot beside him, and he turned his attention back to her. "You're not married are you?" she asked urgently, glancing down at his ring finger.

"No, I'm not married," he replied softly, though his assurances were superfluous. She'd breathed her sigh of relief three crucial seconds before.

"Good," she replied instinctively, before catching herself. "I mean… not _good," _she spluttered. "Obviously if you were married that would be… good, also. Well, it'd be totally up to you, that's all I'm saying… I'm going to shut up, now," she finished meekly.

"When did you develop a habit for rambling?" he asked amusedly. He could remember a time when he struggled to coax monosyllabic answers from this girl.

Peyton smiled, feeling a little more at ease. "I don't know – sometime in the last three years I guess."

Or the last three minutes.

Lucas nodded, almost imperceptibly. He couldn't help wondering what else he had missed…

"So what's her name?" Peyton continued.

"Oh." he answered, snapping out of his daze. "Lindsay."

"Lindsay," Peyton repeated, trying the name out, tasting it on her tongue. She swallowed thickly.

"Alright," she started, bracing herself for the blow she was sure would follow. "I'm just going to ask. Did she have anything to do with your book?"

Lucas frowned in consternation. "Yeah," he said, his surprise evident in his tone. "She edited it. How did you know that?"

"Oh, uhh," she blinked tears out of her eyes. "It's nothing, I just… I saw you guys together the day of that book signing in LA. Do you remember that day?"

"What?" he replied quickly, his tone suddenly sharper, more alert. "But…." he spluttered, "you never showed. Peyton, were you…"

She could literally see the realisation dawning upon him

"Were you there that day?"

She nodded a yes. "I was so proud of you, Luke," she said quietly. "I always knew you could do it. And seeing all those people there just to meet you – I wouldn't have missed it. But then," she fought to keep her voice pleasant and normal, "I saw you with … Lindsay, did you tell me?" she asked, cursing her own absent mindedness.

He nodded mutely.

"Right," she continued. "So I saw you with Lindsay and assumed you two were together – which, clearly, you are. I just… figured you wouldn't want to be bothered with some girl from the past."

"Peyton," he shook his head in utter disbelief, unable to comprehend how easily the entire trajectory of his life had changed without him even knowing it. "I called you up and asked you to come. How could you have thought I wouldn't want you to be there? God!" he groaned. "_I_ wouldn't even have been there if it hadn't been for you. You sent my manuscript out."

She shook her head dismissively. "It's your work, Lucas. I just… gave you a push in the right direction."

"It was more than that," he replied hoarsely, looking her straight in the eye, his gaze unflinching.

"Well," she replied quietly, "whatever it was – faith or hope or… _something_ - you gave it to me long before I give it to you. So how about we just call it even?"

He laughed. "Alright."

"You know," Lucas began again, after a long pause, "the funny thing is, Lindsay and I weren't even dating then."

Peyton couldn't say she was exactly tickled.

"Really?" she asked, her voice breaking as she allowed herself to just feel the despair sweeping over every cell in her body.

Lucas nodded. "Yeah," he answered starkly. I actually… I actually went out with her for the first time that night. Because you didn't show. Or, I thought you didn't show," he amended with a bitter laugh, casting a hand wearily across his forehead.

"Wow," Peyton exhaled. She really didn't know how to react to that information. Until suddenly, all she could do was laugh.

It had to be better than the alternative.

"God!" she exclaimed, no real joy in her tone. "That's really fucking tragic, Luke. I mean, seriously," she laughed again hollowly, "that's the stuff of movies right there! And so typically us."

Lucas, hit hard and fast by this latest revelation, couldn't disagree.

--

"So – I don't really know what to say right now," he began eventually, after what seemed like an age of silence.

She smiled a little. "I don't either."

"Are you happy, Luke?" she asked impulsively, after a beat.

He didn't really consider it before he said yes. After all, there is really only one acceptable answer to that question.

"Lindsay's a great girl, you know?" he continued in explanation, looking out towards the river. "Really smart and sweet and…"

He turned to look at her abruptly. "Come on, Peyton, what do you want me to say? She's not you," he said, and somehow it came out almost as an accusation.

"What does _that _mean?"

"Nothing," Lucas returned tersely.

"Actually," he amended, with a rueful laugh, "I'll tell you what it means – means I'm going to be having a hell of a lot more arguments now that you're apparently back in town."

"What?!" Peyton asked incredulously. "Hey!" she held her hands up in defence. "I'm not picking fights with you! I'm not asking you to say this stuff – I'm just sitting here," she continued indignantly, "….enjoying this nice view of the water."

Lucas couldn't fight the smile that rose to his lips, but still, he continued tiredly. "Not arguments with you," he explained. "Arguments with Lindsay."

"What?" she questioned sharply. "Why?"

His face took on a pained expression. He really didn't want to get into it. "Well," he sighed, "let's just say that when you write a book about one girl, the girls that come after don't really like it so much," he said shortly, hoping desperately that they could just leave it at that.

"Wow," Peyton replied. It would be so easy – too easy – to take that statement and squeeze some hope out of it. But she'd been bitten before with that kind of optimism.

"Someone should tell that to aspiring authors, huh?" she joked.

Lucas shrugged his shoulder, a half-smirk rising to his lips of its own accord. "I wouldn't have listened anyway.

Peyton's heart quivered in her chest, and she cursed herself for being such a girl.

"I don't know," Lucas was continuing. "I mean, like I said, Lindsay's great, you know? She really is. But she's jealous of you. There," he admitted, deciding he really may as well just lay it out there, "that's it. She's jealous, and I don't know what I do to make her feel that way. And…" he frowned, "it can just be tough sometimes."

He paused, then shook his head, as if trying to rid it of those thoughts. "You definitely don't need to be hearing all this."

"Probably not," she agreed. "But if you want my opinion," she said dryly - wondering in what universe she was qualified to give him impartial relationship advice – "if it feels like hard work, there's probably something wrong."

He weighed her words and turned to meet her gaze, somehow speaking evenly and brokenly at once.

"Well," he confessed, "falling in love with you was the easiest thing I ever did, and look where that got me."

--

Peyton struggled to bite back a gasp. That was either the best or worst thing he could have said to her. She didn't know which.

"You were the one who left," she couldn't help but point out.

"I know!" Lucas spat out vehemently. "I know. And to this day I'm not sure what made me think that was a good idea. But you left me first!" he added, feeling the need to explain himself somehow.

"You were only supposed to be in L.A for the summer, Peyton. And then you stayed. It didn't seem like you were ever planning on coming back, in fact, so I'm honestly pretty surprised to see you here right now. I hadn't seen you in months, and I _missed_ you, and then you said 'no'-"

"I never said no!" she exclaimed, interrupting him with a groan of frustration. "I said –|"

"Someday," he finished quietly for her. "Yeah. I remember. But, Peyt," he continued intensely, "I had been having a hell of a lot of conversations with your answering machine. From where I was standing, "someday" just sounded like a really shitty way to couch rejection."

"It wasn't," she answered hoarsely, wondering how this once-critical detail could now seem so pointless.

He shrugged, attempting nonchalance. "It was a long time ago," he said dismissively. "But for the record, looking back on it, I know you were right. We were too young – still in college, no money. I just…needed to be near you. But anyway," he said quickly, glossing over any forays down memory lane, "yeah. It was stupid."

Peyton gave a watery smile. "That's funny," she replied, "because when I look back on it, I think the only stupid thing was that we didn't just run to City Hall right then and there."

Lucas nodded mutely, feeling the weight of all that could have been settle between them. His fingertips grazed against hers on the bleachers, and though he wasn't sure who had made the move, he knew it could very well have been him.

That touch – the smallest, most innocent of gestures – was enough to give Peyton courage.

"I came back for you," she blurted out.

He blinked. "What?"

"You heard me," she said breathlessly, feeling her heart pounding madly. "I missed you every day. I was miserable without you. You broke my heart in that hotel room, but I can't hate you for it – 'cause I think I broke yours too."

"Peyton," he muttered urgently, rising from his seat, his eyes darting around like those of a caged animal.

She could tell he was getting scared.

She didn't care. She wasn't.

Subconsciously feeling a little at a disadvantage, she stood up to equal his height. "If I asked you to leave her," she said boldly, "would you do it?"

"Is that what you're doing?"

"Yes."

Lucas exhaled heavily, and began to pace agitatedly. "Peyt," he repeated. "God, I –" he moved toward her as if to grab her, but pulled himself back at the last second, his face a picture of anguish. "I…. I _can't_. Lindsay doesn't deserve that. And you and I have been broken up a long time."

Peyton blinked away the tears frantically, her earlier strength now entirely dissipated. She felt as if, one by one, each of her organs were shutting down, starting with her heart.

"Ok then," she replied, forcing herself to keep her shoulders straight and look him in the eye. "I guess I'll… see you around."

She was half way across the basketball court when Lucas's brain finally engaged, and he called out to her.

"Peyton!" he cried, walking towards her a little. "I'm sorry!"

She ignored his apology, heart-felt as she had no doubt it was. "I had a boyfriend, you know," she called back. "In L.A"

"Yeah?" Lucas returned non-committally, struggling to process this latest turn of events. He was wholly unprepared for the sick feeling that settled in his stomach like a weighted anchor as her words sunk in.

"Yeah," she nodded. "Julian – his name was Julian. And he was pretty damn near perfect, Lucas. After I saw you with Lindsay that day at the book signing, I figured I should probably get back out there." She cocked an eyebrow. "The irony just keeps on coming, huh?"

Lucas exhaled in disbelief. How could it have been that in reaching out to each other, they had some how managed to push each other toward others?

"Was it serious?" he found himself asking.

"Well, we were living together, if that means anything."

It certainly meant something to Lucas. Living together meant that this guy Julian, whoever the hell he was, had gotten to put his toothbrush next to Peyton's. He'd gotten to sample her cookery endeavors and see her before she was awake, with bedhead and no make-up. The thought alone made his blood boil.

"But…" he spluttered. "You said you _had_ a boyfriend. You guys are broken up now, right?" he questioned, confused as to how they could go from what was so obviously something to nothing in such a short space of time.

"Yeah," Peyton confirmed, "last week."

"Wow," Lucas answered, genuinely taken aback. That's … recent. Can I… can I ask what happened?" he probed, acutely aware that he had no right to be posing such questions at all.

"Nothing really," she shrugged. "Julian was a great guy. There were just some things I couldn't give him. And he never liked my reading material much," she added as an afterthought, smirking at some apparently private joke.

He watched her walk away, all long tanned legs and curly hair, wearing that impossibly short dress effortlessly. Peyton Sawyer as a girl had undoubtedly been captivating, to that he could certainly attest – but Peyton Sawyer as a woman was something spectacular to behold. He had spent an hour sitting beside her on the bleachers, and already he could see that. She had become everything that he had known she would. Kind and capable and sexy. Brave. So brave.

He was such a coward.

"Peyton!" he shouted, striding towards her, until he was mere inches from her.

She turned around wearily. "I can't talk to you anymore, Lucas," she said, her eyes tired but as intense as ever.

"That question that you asked me before…" he began in a rush.

She didn't have to ask which one he meant.

Lucas took a deep breath. "I can do that," he said, surprised to hear his own voice perfectly steady and certain.

Peyton's face betrayed no reaction whatsoever. There was still a little part of her that reminded her that anything appearing too good to be true probably was.

The seconds during which she said nothing seemed the longest of Lucas's life.

"Really?" she asked eventually in a small voice, her arms crossed protectively across her chest.

Again, Lucas felt an odd calmness. "Really. I was being stupid before."

He could have been referring to any number of idiotic things he'd done, but Peyton didn't stop to think about any of them before she launched herself into his arms. He stumbled backwards at the force of her, and then they were both laughing, clutching at each other tightly, trying to get closer. Always closer.

"Oh my God," she murmured, giddy and emotional and breathless, raising both her hand to his face. Her fingertips travelled over his cheekbones, across his jaw line, caressing all the contours she'd missed. He closed his eyes and sighed deeply.

Contentment.

--

Peyton could feel his breath on her face as he exhaled. It gave her shivers.

Then his hands seemed to be everywhere at once. On her waist, in her hair, on her back – it all melted together in a haze of pleasure. He pulled her body flush against his, almost lifting her off the ground as he kissed her forehead, her cheeks, her eyelids – any place he could reach short of her lips.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled desperately against her skin. "I'm sorry, god, I'm so sorry, Peyt."

"I'm sorry too," she replied, with equal intensity. "But it doesn't matter anymore, ok? It doesn't matter. We were both just really, really stupid."

"_Really_ stupid," he agreed with a laugh, kissing her cheekbone again fiercely.

"C'mere," was Peyton's only response, pulling his mouth down to hers.

He stopped before their lips met, moving in to rest his forehead against hers instead. "We can't" he whispered in reply to her unasked question, imagining the look of puzzlement on her face.

"I just… don't want us to start off that way. We've been in that place before," he said, and she knew exactly what he meant. Secret kisses and stolen moments when one or other of them wasn't free.

"And we're – _this_ -," he continued, "it's better than that, Peyt. And you have no idea how much I want to kiss you right now. Seriously, _none_," he added with a smirk. "But I don't want to make you into the other woman."

In an odd way, it was the most perfect thing he could have said to her. He had always been the boy who wanted everything with her – and who wanted to do it all right. Life had just screwed that up sometimes. There was one thing he was wrong about, though. She rubbed her nose against his a little, before pulling away to look into his eyes.

"I'm not the other woman. She is."

Lucas paused for a moment, absorbing the perfect truth of her words. He nodded slowly, and when he spoke, his voice was thick with emotion.

"I _know_."

"You're right though," Peyton responded, dropping the chastest of kisses to his face. "We can wait. We _should_ wait. When are you going to do it?"

"I don't know," Lucas said distractedly. "Right now. As soon as I get home."

She couldn't honestly say his pro-activeness made her too unhappy. Nevertheless, she glanced at her watch. "Luke," she began, "it's pretty late. Maybe you should just talk to Lindsay in the morning. Girls don't usually like it when guys wake them up out of their sleep to break up with them. I mean, not that it's much better in the daylight hours, but, you know…"

"You think?" Lucas asked.

"Yeah, definitely," she replied. In truth, she felt sorry for this girl, though they had never met. She was sure Lucas wouldn't have bothered even trying to pursue a relationship with someone who wasn't worthy, and Lindsay didn't deserve to have her heart broken. And Lucas, for all his mistakes, didn't deserve to have to be the one to break it. Peyton could only imagine that he had cared about her greatly, putting everything he had into making that relationship something it could never be. Indeed, having recently been in an uncannily similar position herself with Julian, Peyton was acutely aware of how frankly crappy a situation it was for everyone involved.

Lucas, meanwhile, appeared unconvinced. "I can't just go back home and act like everything's normal," he protested. "I can't lie in bed beside her when I know I'm not going to be able to get _you_ out of my mind."

Peyton smiled. She couldn't help it.

"So, don't go home," she said simply, shrugging her shoulders.

"What?" he asked laughingly.

"Don't go home," she repeated. "The sun'll be up in a few hours anyway. Go back then."

"What am I supposed to do until then?"

"Well, I don't know," Peyton said coyly. "What did you come here for?"

She looked pointedly at the basketball that had been long since abandoned on the bleachers. He followed her gaze, and a slow smile spread across his face.

"You still got it, Lucas Scott?" she teased, arching an eyebrow wryly.

"I don't know," he fired back, "have you?"

Peyton walked the few steps to retrieve the ball, throwing it at him. He caught it deftly.

"Let's find out," she called playfully. "For every shot you make, I'll give you my best Ravens cheer. Deal?"

He studied her for a second, settled on the front row now, smiling and looking exactly like everything he had ever wanted.

"Deal," he replied.

And it was all the promise she needed from him.

* * *

Throughout all of season 5, I used to think how different things could have been if, on that first night, Peyton had been brave enough to say, "Leave her," and Lucas had been brave enough to say, "Ok."

Reviews are always appreciated.


End file.
